


Sometimes

by razboinicul_iernii



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Assets & Handlers, Bears, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Confused Bucky Barnes, Confusion, Gen, Guilt, Manipulation, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Unhappy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Wilderness, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, as in a literal bear named bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razboinicul_iernii/pseuds/razboinicul_iernii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier, Agent Rumlow, and a bear cub are the only remaining survivors of a mission gone wrong in the Cascadian wilderness. The soldier doesn't know when he was given the mission to protect the bear, but he's pretty sure its name is Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> This might make you sad? I'm a poor judge of these things. D: If you want to know what, exactly about it might be sad you can skip to the end notes for the spoiler.
> 
> edit: only months after writing this did I realize that I had erroneously written the Senator every time I meant to write the Secretary in reference to Pierce. you guys are champs for not being annoyed with this oversight haha

Agent Reiche moved his mouth without speaking words. His lips opened and closed and opened and the only thing that came out was blood. Approximately sixty percent of the skin on his face was flayed and torn. Further injuries were present as indicated by the shining dark patches on the ripped fatigues, particularly around the stomach. Agent Reiche, his handler, was dying. Cause of death: ambush by third party combatant.

The soldier had attempted to neutralized the combatant but it took more ammunition than average because the combatant was a grizzly bear. It currently laid three meters away, unmoving. The soldier prepared a report: Squadron had been moving northwest through forest. Met targets at 0429. Traded fire. Mission successful. Casualties: two STRIKE team members. Recovery of bodies interrupted by sudden ambush by the bear. The soldier and Agent Reiche were forced to descend a dangerous slope when the bear pursued. All parties lost footing due to increased momentum combined with unstable ground and fell further from the field. Damages sustained: negligible for the soldier, fatal to Agent Reiche. Combatant succumbed to blood loss and possible internal injuries sustained in the fall.

Agent Reiche succumbed to his injuries at around 0500 hours. Position of handler automatically designated to the only other surviving STRIKE member Agent Rumlow. Error: The Soldier was not in contact with Rumlow. Remedies: Search Agent Reiche for communications devices.

He did so, feeling along Agent Reiche's belt for the radio. He found it crushed and broken beneath Reiche's back.

Further solutions: verbal request for extraction. He called for Rumlow three times, allowing room for a response between calls. None came.

Further solutions: scale cliff face, track back to field. Undesirable. The rock face was roughly one hundred meters high. It would likely require creating his own hand and footholds with his left arm, which may not be secure. This would mean multiple attempts at scaling the rock would be required. Finding an alternate route back to the field could be time consuming. This presented the problem that Agent Rumlow would not remain present at the field and would instead come looking for him, and they would miss each other in the process.

Tentative consensus: remain stationary. Await extraction.

He moved such that his back faced the rock wall. Water leaked from somewhere inside the cliff, some areas in frozen over. Sunrise would be in approximately one hour. He searched the surrounding area for any threats. The wide and shallow stream running over a bed of rocks made this difficult. The ambient noise level was high as a result. Further interference came with the cries of birds, crickets, and other animals. He persisted, but heard little that caused alarm, and counted the minutes for lack of a given assignment.

At roughly 0548, there was a noise. Something was approaching from the other side of the stream. Light on its feet. Four legs. He focused in the lightening dark and saw movement, a brown and white body. It was a deer, moving to the water over the rocks. He searched for further movement. Prey attracted predators. The deer stilled, ears pricking up. He held his breath to better hear whatever it was listening for.

There was a crack of gunfire and the deer dropped dead in the stream. Possible responses: engage and dispatch the hunter or hunters when they came for the body, or move from the area to avoid being seen. Engaging presented minimal risks of bodily harm-the hunter or hunters were likely civilians. He was meant to avoid casualties where possible in order to avoid drawing attention. If he left the area, he would not be required to kill them. There was also Agent Reiche's body to consider. If found in its current state, dressed for combat, it could cause problems. Most civilians were unaware of HYDRA's fight for the betterment of their society. Secretary Pierce explained that most people were not certain of what they needed, of what would be best for them, and that was why their fight needed to remain a secret. Once HYDRA had changed the world, people would see that it was better than it was before. Allowing the civilian hunters to find the agent's body may invite questions and searches. This would likely disappoint Secretary Pierce and it was undesirable to disappoint him.

He dragged the body to him and lifted it over his shoulder. He scanned the ground for further evidence and found none. There was some blood on the rocks, but the hunters were more likely to assume it came from the dead bear given its proximity. He would not bother moving the bear, as it would not invite as many questions or suspicions.

He could hear people moving through the woods on the other side of the stream. One was smaller than the other. An adult and a child, maybe. He moved away, keeping the rock wall to his left and the stream to his right. He was now forced to find an alternate route back up to the original field. The chances that he would encounter Agent Rumlow along the way were slim.

He continued to move. The sounds of the hunters faded behind him. They spoke to each other, not bothering to be quiet, about the deer, the buck. It made his brain itch in an unpleasant way. He was unwell. Secretary Pierce told him, and the secretary knew everything there was to know, so he believed him. His mind, specifically, was unwell. Someone hurt him once, someone he couldn't remember because of how his mind was hurt. The Russians hurt him more, until the secretary told them to stop. The secretary always helped him, so he knew Secretary Pierce had his best interest in mind.

Sometimes his mind did things, made him see and hear things that weren't real. These were called hallucinations. Secretary Pierce knew how to get rid of them temporarily, but there was no permanent solution, so he slept when he wasn't needed. The hallucinations always came back but the secretary was always kind and he always fixed them. Right now, his mind was telling him that "buck" meant something. It meant a male deer, or a thrashing movement. But maybe it meant more, the hallucinations said. He could tell the hallucinations to be quiet, and it would work for a small amount of time. Eventually, he would need to return to Secretary Pierce, to have him tell the doctors to put him in the chair again and it would hurt. The hallucinations hurt more, though. They made his reality seem wrong and nothing hurt more than that.

A good way to ignore the hallucinations was to focus on a mission. Every time he was woken up, it was for a mission. He didn't mind. It was good to be useful, good to help Secretary Pierce who so kindly helped him. He owed everything to Secretary Pierce. It would be wrong to refuse to help him. He never made his own missions. He didn't know enough about anything to do so. But he could give himself certain orders. Currently, he ordered himself to return to the field where he'd been separated from Agent Rumlow by the bear. He searched his surroundings, keeping track of where he was moving in relation to the field. It was some time before he saw a bridge overhead, an old one, made of rope and wood. It was possible for him to cross over the stream and ascend the more manageable slope there in order to cross the bridge to move back towards the field.

He did so. His boots were waterproof and he assumed the stream was very cold but didn't feel it. The sky was lightening, turning pink as the sun rose. The grass on the slope was slick with dew, the rocks wet from melting ice. He lost his footing only once, ending up back at the bottom of the slope. It was more difficult to navigate with Agent Reiche's body in tow, but leaving it could mean someone finding it. He tried again, testing each step before committing, trying to find the driest path. He also glanced frequently from the crest of the slope back down to the stream to ensure he was still alone. There was always the chance that the civilian hunters were not civilians. There was also the chance that Agent Rumlow could find him.

He pushed on. The air was cold still but that was unimportant information. It simply made the ends of his fingers feel stiff, and sometimes it stung his eyes. His mouth and nose were fine behind the mask. Everything was functional, and the cold didn't matter unless it changed that in some way. He was HYDRA's best weapon and it didn't do them any good if he was concerned with something trivial like the weather.

He only slipped one more time, but caught himself long before hitting the bottom of the slope. The sound of the stream still reached him when he got to the top, and from this height he could see the bend in the stream where the deer had been shot. It was no longer there, and neither were the hunters. The bear carcass was left behind. He tracked along the path he'd walked and found no one following. He scanned the opposite ridge and saw no one waiting there for him. He readjusted Agent Reiche's weight on his shoulder and stepped out onto the bridge.

It creaked. He considered the structural integrity before taking another step. It creaked further, and swayed very slightly. The ropes were taught, anchored by deeply buried posts on either side. He searched the wood boards for signs of rot or decay before moving on. A fall would be a setback, little more. He was stronger than people, because he was a weapon and weapons are meant to be strong. People are fragile. He is not, so he knows he is not a person. Not a _buck,_ like the hallucinations insist. If he fell, he would not die. A person would be dead, or close to it.

The bridge held. He was back on the right side of the stream, closer to the field. He moved along the ridge, keeping the stream at his left and far below. He took careful steps, made sure to stay away from the edge of the ridge in order to avoid falling again. However, it was easier to avoid doing so when not being pursued by a bear.

It wasn't long before he found the place where he and Agent Reiche and the bear had fallen from. The rocks here were obviously scrambled, and there were gouges and divots in the dirt below them, and flecks of blood. He looked to his right and saw the slope they'd tumbled down. He called once for Agent Rumlow in the event he was still on the field. No response came. It had been nearly two hours and he hadn't returned to the field, so Agent Rumlow may have gone looking for him, or gone somewhere to call for an extraction team to help find him.

He set about to climbing the next slope. It was not as difficult as the first, as it was less steep, and dotted with tall pines. He aimed for them as he moved, using them for support as he plotted the best path upwards. Dew was still slick on the grass, and old pine needles scattered over the forest floor made the ground particularly unstable. They also hid small obstacles, like jutting roots and moss-covered rocks. His thighs were beginning to burn from the effort involved in climbing these slopes over and over, but it was hardly noticeable. He had much more stamina than a person.

The forest around him was largely silent. Birds called occasionally. Nothing much larger than a squirrel moved. There were no distinctly human sounds, so he kept picking his way upward. The sky was not yet bright, but the sun had risen. Under the shade of the trees, it seemed darker than it really was. Finally he made it to the top of the slope.

Agent Rumlow was not present. However, the targets' corpses and the two other bodies that belonged to their team remained. This meant extraction had not yet occurred, and Agent Rumlow was still somewhere in the vicinity. He dropped Agent Reiche near the others and searched the field for anything useful. Agent Rumlow hadn't left much. Any extra ammunition to be found on the bodies was gone. MREs gone save for the one half-eaten and now covered in ants. He continued to search and found a radio sitting against a fallen tree. It seemed purposefully placed, and he picked it up. There was something folded up and slipped beneath the clip on the back. A message which would look incomprehensible to eyes that weren't his. An order to use the radio, channel five. If he could not contact Agent Rumlow, he was to head to the coordinates given in the message.

A sudden noise drew his attention back up, his handgun already trained in the direction. It was a rustling noise. The crinkling of thin plastic or foil. He didn't see anyone, but he stepped closer.

A small, brown animal was eating the leftover MRE on the ground. He watched and assessed the situation. The animal was too small to be a threat. He searched the area to ensure the animal was not a distraction. Nothing else moved. No one breathed. No rustle of cloth. The animal looked up when he moved and he saw that it was a bear. A little bear, a little girl with a little bear and she loved the bear so much and once someone had stolen the bear from her and laughed in her face and made her cry and he'd given himself the mission to retrieve the little bear and the little girl was so happy she'd said thank you you saved him Bucky you're the best-

He blinked quickly. These were hallucinations. He needed Secretary Pierce to fix them.

Or were they? It was a mission, to protect the little bear. Yes, a mission. He remembered his missions. But Bucky was a hallucination. No, Bucky was the bear's name. His mission was to protect Bucky. The bear. And return it. To...Who? He looked at his hands. The gun was not necessary so he holstered it. He moved towards Bucky and it jerked its head away from the MRE. It made a small noise and tried to run before he picked it up. He dropped down to a seated position, back pressed against the fallen tree, and he held the wriggling bear to him with his left arm. With his right, he grabbed the edge of the MRE wrapper and dragged it towards them.

The ants were largely gone. He grabbed the block of meat and held it in front of Bucky's face. " _Yesh,"_ he said. It wriggled further before catching the scent and stilling slightly. It took a bite. He let go of the meat and the bear ate it. While it did that, he grabbed one of the broken crackers and put peanut butter on it. He observed the other agents do this and it tended to be easier than eating the small block of peanut butter in one sitting. Bucky caught the scent and twisted around, sniffing at his mouth while he ate the cracker.

They ate the rest of the food and Bucky continued to shove its face into the packaging, trying to find every crumb. He had one MRE on him, and it would need to be preserved as long as possible in the event he had further difficulties finding Agent Rumlow.

He remembered the radio and the order to use it. He unclipped it from his belt while Bucky sniffed the ground beside him for more food. He called over channel five for Agent Rumlow then released the button and waited. There was only static. And then: "Go for Rumlow."

He told Agent Rumlow his location and status. He was given orders to proceed to the designated coordinates in the message, as Agent Rumlow was 'too fucking far away looking for your dumb bear-eaten ass' to make a rendezvous at his current position reasonable. He withheld the information that he had not been eaten at all by the bear as he believed Agent Rumlow would designate this information as 'fucking obvious'.

He clipped the radio to his hip and stood. The bear wriggled more, so he set it down. " _Ko mne,_ " he said. Bucky responded with a small noise and it shifted its weight uncertainly from side to side. It seemed to be searching for something. He took a step forward, pointed beside his feet, and said again, more sternly, " _Ko mne._ " He did not often give orders. He was allowed to demand certain weapons, backup, first aid. This was how some of his superiors spoke to him when he failed to comply initially, so he followed their example now as he addressed the bear.

It was a method they used for a reason. Bucky again made a noise but ultimately followed him. They moved north. Their progress was slow, as Bucky continued to wander away to smell things and cry out. " _Tiho,"_ he'd say but Bucky was not a very good listener to that command because it still cried out. There could have still been hostiles in the forest, however unlikely, and Bucky's crying would attract attention. He picked Bucky up and the crying became smaller noises as the bear turned its eyes over every visible area. The bear, if anything, was a good look out.

The sun climbed higher, shedding more light into the forest. Tall pines stretched out to brush the sky above them, and birds flitted between the branches. The gurgling of the stream grew louder, though it was still far off. The terrain was always rough and there was no trail. He was careful. He didn't want to injure the bear, or someone would be upset. He was still uncertain who he was bringing Bucky to, but he knew it was necessary. Knew it was an important mission. Agent Rumlow would have more information.

He never stopped to rest. Bucky cried a little less now and he was uncertain if it was because it had no further reason for crying or if it had finally learned _tiho._ He let the bear down to walk on its own. It wandered but he never let it too far from his sight. It would not be good to lose the bear. Everything small avoided the bear. Squirrels darted up tree trunks in frantic strides. Birds flitted cautiously to higher branches. Bucky would move faster at the sight of something in motion, as though it wanted to give chase but changed its mind at the last moment. Then the bear began to chew on sticks and pine cones, pulling flowers and leaves out of the ground. So he said, " _Fu."_ But the bear didn't listen.

He picked Bucky up and it whined again. He couldn't risk it injuring itself before he delivered it to safety. So he held the bear, even when it licked his clothes and chewed on his left hand. Bucky whined and growled again and again, and no matter how many times he ordered the bear to be quiet, it didn't stop. Noise could attract attention. He pulled his only MRE out as a test and the whining died slightly. The food could be spared.

He scanned the area. A large boulder jutted out of the earth just a few meters away, the roots of nearby trees wrapping it firmly in place. The woods were filled with the sound of chirping crickets and chattering rodents and singing birds. Nothing that indicated a threat. Still he moved to the boulder and sat with his back pressed against its slick, mossy surface. Bucky squirmed in his lap and whined some more, nose pressed against the packaging of the food. He unwrapped it, and took out only the block of meat. He didn't eat any, surrendering it all to the bear. Bucky was only quiet when it ate, it seemed.

They'd covered a little more than half the distance to the rendezvous point. He weighed the rest of the food in his hand and thought it may be best to preserve it. The bear may want more later. For now, Bucky licked at the inside of the wrapper that had held the meat, holding it to the ground with its paws. He thought of the little girl who wanted the bear back. Maybe she was a relative of Secretary Pierce's. Or one of the agents. Whoever she was, he knew it was the most important mission he'd undertaken in a long time. The secretary might appreciate his initiative, as no one had explicitly ordered him to complete the task. He'd figured it out on his own and normally he was not good at that. But the secretary was always helpful and told him what to do.

Bucky looked up at him when it was done chewing on the wrapper. Secretary Pierce told him it was poor form to leave garbage behind. Not only because of the possibility of it being considered evidence of their work, but also because littering was bad. It was bad for the environment. And they needed the environment to live in. So he picked the wrapper up and shoved it into his pocket. Bucky licked the fingers of his right hand and its tongue was warm and made him think of a dog.

He scooped the bear up and it didn't move as much now. Again it kept watch, moving its head to look first over his left shoulder, then his right, then forward again. It sniffed at the mask on his face, and nosed at the ends of his hair. He kept searching for threats but there never was one. As they moved farther and farther north, he eventually heard foot steps on the forest floor. Boots snapping twigs. Adult, somewhat less than two hundred pounds. Just at or under six feet. He slowed his own pace, eyes scanning the woods for movement.

"Oh Jesus, _really_?"

He shifted his gaze to the west and found the source of the noise. Agent Rumlow stood, hands raised to his chest where he adjusted a holster at his side. His hood was up, his hat pulled down to cover the tips of his ears. His nose and cheeks were red and he took long strides towards the soldier. His eyes were on Bucky, so the soldier explained, "Additional assignment."

"Who gave you that idea?" Agent Rumlow demanded. He grimaced as he looked at the bear.

The soldier stared, felt the world going out of focus around him as he thought, everything in his head blurring like a photo taken by a shaking hand. "It's a mission. It's important."

"Put the god damn bear down before it's mom-" Rumlow stopped suddenly and looked back towards the south. Then he muttered, "Christ," and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Where'd you find that thing?"

"At the strike zone. By the bodies."

"Where that other bear attacked us," Rumlow said in a way that seemed like he didn't really want an answer. In a way that seemed like he didn't want it to be said at all.

"Yes, sir," he answered anyway.

"The fuck's the point of sending scouts if they don't _fucking_ scout anything," Rumlow said under his breath and he kicked a pine cone at a tree. It made contact and splintered like it was made of toothpicks. Rumlow sighed and some of the anger was gone from his voice when he said, "Look, you know you can't keep that thing."

"It's my mission." He shifted his weight and he didn't know why. There was no reason behind it. "I must return the bear to Secretary Pierce."

"Oh yeah, he'll love that," Rumlow said, a laugh coming out with the words. "Happy fucking Easter, right?"

"What is Easter-"

"Nothing, nevermind, put the bear down and let's go. We've got a safe house to get to before night. Gonna be cold as shit and maybe you're used to that but I sure as hell ain't." Rumlow took a few steps forward and then stopped, turning to look back at the soldier. He couldn't let go of the bear. He needed it. It was the mission. He stood, rooted to the spot, still holding Bucky. Rumlow said, more sternly this time, "Put the bear down, soldier. That's an order."

He gritted his teeth. Rumlow's order certainly didn't override a mission that was going to be so important to Secretary Pierce. He couldn't say no, but he couldn't abandon the bear. "A conflict in orders means deferring to the higher authority. Secretary Pierce wants the bear."

Rumlow took a few steps towards him. "No, he doesn't."

"It's my mission."

"No, it isn't. Put the bear down, or I'm going to put it down for you," Rumlow said, tone edging back to anger.

The mission was being threatened. Even if this was done by a team mate, he was authorized to eliminate anything that could endanger the success of a mission. He lashed out, foot smashing into Rumlow's kneecap. Rumlow let loose a curse and responded in kind, pistol slamming into the soldier's head. He felt something wet drip down his face and the bear gave a cry, the first one in some time. He held the bear in his right arm and gave a blow with his left hand that caught Rumlow on the jaw. It wasn't with full force, but Rumlow stumbled back and spat blood at the ground. "Fuck it! I don't give a shit, keep the fucking bear! At least now I have plain evidence I tried!" He rubbed his jaw and spat again. "How'd I get so fucking lucky? Jack gets sent to Key West for recon and I get stuck with you in the great wild yonder thinking this is fucking build-a-bear out here, Christ in Heaven." The soldier waited, needing to verify that Rumlow was going to desist in obstructing the mission. The agent threw out his hands and stared at him. "The fuck you waiting for, kid? Move your ass!" He pointed north, so the soldier moved. Bucky groaned a little, peering over his shoulder at Rumlow. The soldier heard the man laugh and spit again.

They moved at a steady pace. Rumlow stopped once to smoke a cigarette, and the soldier used this time to feed the bear some crackers and peanut butter. Rumlow snorted as he watched, and after exhaling a cloud of smoke he asked, "You know what bears eat?"

He paused. He did not. "Bucky has eaten everything in our standard issue MREs without complaint or complication."

"Bucky?" Rumlow echoed with a laugh. "You _named_ him? You even sure it's a him?"

He hadn't thought about the gender and whether or not the name was for males or females. He simply knew this was the bear's name. "Bucky is its name."

Rumlow raised his eyebrows as he took another drag. "Bucky the Bear," he said, clouds of smoke chasing the words out of his mouth. "Whatever you say, kid." He snubbed the cigarette against the pine behind him before dropping the butt against the ground.

The soldier felt his eyebrow twitch. Dried blood cracked at the motion. "Littering is a violation of standard protocol," he said.

"It's just a little scrap of paper and some leaves. It's going to rot away."

"It's litter. Secretary Pierce said not to litter."

Rumlow laughed hard when the soldier said that but did not pick up the litter. The soldier felt his breath leave his nose somewhat sharply, warming his lips as it was caught behind his mask. He leaned towards Rumlow and plucked the cigarette butt from its place in the tree root and slid it into his pocket with the food wrappers. Bucky tried to sniff it and the soldier lifted the bear instead. It resumed its usual watch, shifting its head from shoulder to shoulder. Rumlow watched all of this silently before finally snorting and shaking his head. "Okay. Last stretch. You good?"

"Affirmative."

"I feel great, thanks for asking."

"I did not ask."

"You're a god damn riot, kid, you know that?" Rumlow asked, shaking out his injured leg.

"No." He shifted the weight of the bear from his right hand to his left and followed behind Agent Rumlow. They moved downhill, which was easiest. There was still no marked path to follow, but they only needed to keep moving north. Bucky groaned and whined occasionally but didn't struggle to get away like it did when the soldier first picked it up. The trees were beginning to thin out until finally he saw them end completely. The openness of the field ahead seemed like a risk, but Agent Rumlow did not appear concerned. As they reached the end of the tree line, he let his eyes scan the visible area. Snow capped peaks towered ahead in the distance. They would not be going that far. In the more immediate vicinity there were rolling hills with colorful flowers in pinks and whites and blues scattered everywhere in the tall grass that swayed in the breeze. A small group of birds twittered loudly as they raced out of the field and away into the sky, like a wisp of dark clouds on the wind.

"Damn, feels like stepping into a postcard," Rumlow said, squinting in the sunlight. It was cold, in spite of the brightness. He said nothing in response because the statement didn't merit one and he followed Rumlow silently. Butterflies danced away from them as they moved through the grass, never wandering too far from the flowers. They first descended one hill before climbing another slope, and it was only when they reached the top that they could see their destination.

It was an old building, it seemed, but well-kept and sturdy. Average size. There were a pair of parallel lines snaking through the grass from the side of the house away into the distance and Rumlow cocked his head. "Musta had a team out here not that long ago. For what?" he muttered out loud. The soldier wouldn't have an answer. He'd only been awake for three days. Ultimately Rumlow shook his head and nodded towards the building. "C'mon. Hope your, uh, Bucky Bear is house-trained."

"What is house-trained?"

"Means if he shits on the floor, you're cleaning it up."

"Affirmative."

They made it to the building without further incident. It was empty inside, and Agent Rumlow let them in. "I want you to sweep the place, floor to ceiling. It's only one level, no basement. Report to the kitchen when you're done," he said. "I'm going to contact an extraction team to get us to the airstrip. Not walking another god damn step on this knee."

"Affirmative," he said, removing his mask and leaving it on the table. He set Bucky down and began his search of the house. The bear followed him from room to room, sniffing things as they went. Immediately, the soldier noticed items which didn't seem like the usual inclusions of a safe house. There was clothing, but it was all women's. Usually there was a mix of practical attire for both warm and frigid temperatures for both genders. There were also random items that served no apparent purpose-wood carved to look like animals, jewelry, folded pieces of paper with colorful pictures printed on them with words inside like _Sending you warm wishes for Christmas._ He took the paper and returned to the kitchen to report these items to Rumlow.

The agent was looking in the fridge, a puzzled expression on his face as he picked up a plastic container with food in it. He let the door fall closed and turned to face the soldier. "What is this?" the soldier asked, holding the paper out to Rumlow.

"Christmas card," the agent said. "People give em out at Christmas-like, a holiday-uh, damn, it's just a friendly gesture."

"I know holidays. Recreational time."

"Kind of, yeah," Rumlow said, nodding slowly, looking over the card. He seemed concerned. "I think we have the wrong place, soldier."

"These are the assigned coordinates," the soldier said, digging in his pocket for the GPS. It would confirm everything. But then he paused. There was an engine, a truck engine. Bucky groaned a little, and set to gnawing on a chair leg. The truck engine died and he set his gaze on the door in the kitchen. "Someone's here," he said.

"Stand down, out of sight. Engage on my command," Rumlow said, stepping back beside the door. He pressed himself flat and held a hand to the gun in the holster at his side. The soldier moved to the next room, just around the corner. The sound of a key grinding in the lock reached him and he realized it was paired with another-Bucky's teeth scraping against the wooden chair leg. He felt a knot in his stomach. He'd forgotten his mission. And now an intruder was coming. He clenched his fists and his left arm whirred, the noise muffled slightly by the sleeve of the jacket.

The door creaked open.

Everything was silent for a moment. And then, a new voice said, "Whoever's in here, take what you want and get out already. I've got things to do today, you know." It was a woman's voice, older. Agitated, not afraid. Maybe in her fifties. He waited for an order from Rumlow before proceeding.

"Hey, uh-" The soldier heard rustling, then footsteps. "We aren't here to rob you or anything like that. Just me and my friend here-we got a little lost. Thought we could call for help, but no one was home."

"So you just let yourselves in, that it?"

"We're pretty desperate, ma'am. You know us city boys don't know what the hell we're doing out here." Rumlow shifted his weight and added, "How'd you know we were here, anyway?"

"Son, there's a damn bear in my kitchen, eating my table. I may be old, but I'm not stupid. It ain't wander in here on its own."

Rumlow sighed and said, "Sol-ah, uh, pal. Get in here, kid." He understood this was permission to enter the room. And he hadn't been ordered to engage. He entered the room with his hands held up, making a beeline for the bear but keeping his eyes on the woman. She was older, like he'd suspected, with a lined face and brown skin, grey streaks in her dark hair. She watched him with a stern eye and this was outside the range of protocol. People were not meant to see him unless they were a target.

"What the hell're you two doing in my house?" the woman asked finally. "Besides letting bears tear up the place."

The soldier picked up the bear and looked to Rumlow for a response. He said, "Like I said, we got lost in the woods. You can see we're hurt, right?" He gestured to his jaw where a bruise darkened his skin, and then nodded back at the soldier, who still had dried blood on his face. "We thought we could call for help from here. I'm sorry we broke in, really, but we thought no one lived here."

"Well just you remember-if you're planning on robbing me, ask yourself if it's worth dying over a TV." A threat. The woman was armed, or could be.

"I don't believe it is, ma'am," Rumlow said.

"Good. Be a fool thing to do, come all this way to pick at some old woman's stuff like that. The rich ones are all out towards the coast. You go on there if you're looking for money."

"We're not here to rob you, ma'am, we just need to make a phone call. That's all. Maybe clean ourselves up a bit, if you don't mind."

She studied Rumlow, then shifted her eyes to the soldier and Bucky. Her eyes were dark like her hair, small, maybe because of the wrinkles around them. He thought of raisins pressed gently into bread dough and then thought about why he knew to think of that at all. The woman set her lips together in a line before saying, "You pair wouldn't be the first come knocking at my door, wandering off the trails. Ain't any sense in a robber making off with a cub like that, either," she muttered under her breath. And then she smirked a little. "And you look like you care about that thing. What'd you do, shoot his momma and feel guilty about it when you found the baby?"

The question was addressed to him but she was not authorized to interrogate him. He flicked his eyes to Rumlow, who nodded. So he looked back to the woman and felt his fingers sink deeper into Bucky's fur. He hadn't considered the bear's family, if it had one. Then he remembered the bear that attacked them on the field, the one he killed, and he realized it was highly likely, given their proximity, that the cub belonged to it. "I don't know guilty. The bear attacked. I defended myself." He didn't say anything about his mission with Bucky.

"He's uh," Rumlow started to say and then he lowered his voice, as though to keep this next part from the soldier. But he had sharp hearing and Rumlow knew this. "He's got, you know, some issues." Rumlow made a spiraling gesture beside his temple and nodded.

The woman stared back at Rumlow like he was stupid. The soldier was familiar with that look, because he received it often. "Lucky him to have a friend kind as you that tells him it's okay to answer questions all on his own like that." She looked back and forth between them and sighed heavily. "You go on and get yourselves cleaned up, make your phone call, and get on out of here soon as you can. Whatever you boys're doing out here, I don't want no part of it. Don't care, but don't want no part."

"We'll be outta your hair soon enough, ma'am," Rumlow said, and he grabbed the soldier by the elbow, leading him back to the bathroom. "Bitch," Rumlow muttered as soon as they were out of the woman's range of hearing. He grabbed a rag off the rack on the wall and thrust it at the soldier. "Put the god damn bear down already, I don't think she wants it."

The soldier complied, setting Bucky on the sink. Its claws scrabbled noisily on the porcelain. The soldier took the rag and ran it under water from the sink before scrubbing the blood off of his face. The wound was under his hair, and he did his best to clean it with what was available to him. He met his own eyes in the mirror and froze. Bucky. Why was the _bear_ named Bucky? Why did he need to save the bear? The hallucinations crept back to him, the girl so overjoyed at what he'd done for her. How happy she'd be to see the bear, when he brought it back.

"You better be careful. You'll get vain."

He jerked back, forgetting altogether where he was and who was with him. Rumlow gave a crooked grin. "A weapon can not care about itself," the soldier said.

Rumlow let out a breath. "Alright. Does a weapon have to take a piss?"

It seemed that, no, a weapon shouldn't have to do that. He never drained his gun of anything analogous to urine. He was a very different weapon. A lot like a person sometimes. But not so much other times. He shook his head.

"Okay. Go back out there and sit at the table. Don't tell her shit about any missions or orders, none of this 'I'm a weapon' bullshit, nothing about our work or the secretary. I'll only be a second."

The soldier scooped up Bucky and left the bathroom, following his orders. He sat at the table and the bear sat in his lap. Maybe it was hungry, he decided. The woman eyed him while he unwrapped the block of peanut butter from the MRE. "You military?" the woman asked.

He shook his head. That answer was too close to revealing their work. Bucky took the peanut butter and ate it in one bite. So he unwrapped the cheese next.

"You're a quiet thing."

He said nothing as this statement didn't necessitate a response. But he felt like he wasn't always quiet. Before. He used to talk. Even if it wasn't necessary.

The woman made a humming noise. Then she said, "You like hot chocolate?"

Chocolate. Chocolate was contraband. But. That was a rule related to his work. And Agent Rumlow said to avoid telling her anything about their work. Which would include restrictions assigned by his work. So he glanced up at her quickly, as if to gauge her reaction. Maybe she asked that knowing he wasn't supposed to have it and this was all a test. But he had to follow his orders, right? "I don't know hot chocolate."

"Lord," the woman said. "Don't know guilt. Don't know hot chocolate. What've you got going for you, son?" She moved around the kitchen, pulling a mug out of a cabinet and filling it with water. She put it in the microwave and pushed a few buttons and a humming noise filled the silence. He didn't have an answer for her. He had guns and knives and uniforms that were tailored to him, to bare his left arm to intimidate opponents. But those were all related to work so he wasn't supposed to say. He looked down at Bucky, and unwrapped the last packet, a few more crackers. "That all the food you have?"

He nodded.

"You gave all of it to that bear?"

He thought. "I ate several crackers with peanut butter."

"You must be starving."

"Bucky needs to eat."

She laughed, a sharp kind of noise, like the crack of a tree falling back down to the forest. "Oh no. You named it, huh?" She shook her head, as if this were a poor decision.

He couldn't make poor decisions about his missions. He clutched Bucky tighter, leaned forward and asked her, "This is bad?"

"They say when you name a thing, that makes it easier to get attached to it. Emotionally, you see? You name that bear, you ain't gonna like it so much when it gets taken from you."

"Who will try to take it?"

"Government, for one. Most places won't let you keep a bear for a pet, 'specially not in the city."

"I don't want Bucky for a pet."

"That so?" She pulled the mug out of the microwave and dumped some brown powder into it. She stirred the mixture and looked over at him.

"Bucky will make someone happy. When they see it." He couldn't elaborate further. Maybe he'd said too much already. He wasn't used to being asked so many questions that had so little to do with assignments.

The woman tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug a few times. Then she brought it over to him. "What's your name?" she asked.

He stared into the cup. Small white chunks drifted in circles around the inside, floating in the brown liquid. "I don't have a name."

The woman frowned and the lines on her face deepened. "Everyone's got a name. Hell even your bear there has a name. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but don't tell me you don't have one."

He didn't know why but he didn't want to lie to the woman. "I don't. Have a name. Really."

She nodded slowly but didn't say anything further, eyes flicking to the bathroom. The toilet was flushing. Her expression hardened.

He lifted the cup to his lips and drank some of the contents before Rumlow could come back out and stop him. He couldn't remember ever tasting something like this before. Except maybe he could if he tried hard enough. Bucky pressed its nose to the place where the mug met his mouth, groaning a little. He frowned, then looked at the woman. "Can Bucky drink this?"

"I'm not gonna make hot chocolate for a bear, son."

"I understand." Perhaps it was unfair to demand more resources. He dipped his fingers in the cup instead, and let the bear lick it away.

"Oh Lord," the woman said with a sigh, grabbing another cup of water and heating it up.

Rumlow's footsteps reached him and he flicked his eyes to the side without looking back, keeping the agent in his peripheral. "What've you got there, kid?"

"Calm down, it's cocoa, that alright with you?" the woman snapped.

Rumlow threw up his hands. "Just keeping an eye on my friend, ma'am. He running you ragged out here, or what?"

The woman pulled the other mug out of the microwave and dumped more powder into it. "He's sweet as can be."

Rumlow raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. "Good to hear." He held his hand out a little as the woman approached with the mug. Then he pulled it back to himself quickly when she passed by to set it on the table. The soldier set his own mug down and helped the bear drink its own cocoa. The agent muttered, "Christ," under his breath.

He felt his throat tighten. He wasn't supposed to be drinking this and Agent Rumlow knew it. Maybe if Rumlow had some, he would be less angry at the soldier. "Can you make more. For him." His eyes flicked to Rumlow then he fixed them back down to the top of the bear's fuzzy head.

The woman drew in a deep breath, like this was an exhausting prospect.

"No, I'm fine," Rumlow said quickly. "Never liked that stuff anyway."

"Good, cause I wouldn't've liked making it for you." She shut the cabinet door and maintained a hard expression when Rumlow looked at her. "You making your call or what? Phone's right there." She nodded to the opposite wall, where a white phone was hanging up.

The soldier watched as Rumlow did so. He spoke in code that would've sounded like casual conversation, even calling whoever was on the other end 'bud' at one point. The soldier understood what he was really saying. Extraction zone compromised by civilian presence, please advise. The conversation ended, and Rumlow put the phone back on the cradle. He nodded at the woman and said, "Thank you, really."

"As I said, you pair wouldn't be the first."

"Get a lot of visitors then," Rumlow said.

"None quite like you two."

Rumlow smirked but in a way that made the soldier think he didn't find anything amusing. "Husband mind all these intrusions?"

"I live alone. How I prefer it."

"Didn't want kids or a family?"

She eyed him, looking him up and down before asking, "Did you?"

Then Rumlow laughed. "No, guess not."

The woman sighed heavily and glanced back at the soldier. "Whatever you plan on doing, just do it. And do it yourself, like a man. Don't bully that boy into it." Her words grew harder as she spoke, and she turned her eyes back to Rumlow.

The soldier watched Rumlow as he uncrossed his arms and drew out the handgun from beneath his jacket. He looked at the woman next, who didn't seem afraid. Just resigned. "Thank you. For the cocoa," the soldier said. He didn't know why.

The woman shook her head. "Now you know cocoa. Don't know what'll learn you guilt."

He didn't flinch at the gun shot. He was used to hearing them, and it wasn't directed at him, so there was no reason. It was a clean shot, through her chest. Blood sprayed the sink and the small window above it. Bucky wailed at the sudden noise and instinctively, the soldier dug his fingers deeper into the soft fur. "I swear this whole damn mission's just been a test of my patience," Rumlow muttered, crouching down and searching the woman for keys. "Clean up the blood. Some dumbass let the property get sold nearly a decade ago and no one thought, 'hey, maybe this is something STRIKE oughta know about!'"

The soldier set down Bucky and completed the task assigned to him while Rumlow moved the woman's body out to the bed of the truck. It was another two hours before evac came, time enough for them to collect the bodies left out in the woods and bring them back to the outpost. Another team would come and dispose of them, or, in the case of the STRIKE agents, return them to their families, if they had any. The targets and collateral would be dumped somewhere. This was not the soldier's responsibility, so he didn't know much about the procedure.

They were taken back to DC and the soldier only met minimal resistance regarding Bucky. The helicopter pilot had laughed and asked if he could pet Bucky. The soldier said that was not his decision to make and the pilot scratched behind the bear's rounded ear. They transferred to a jet at a private air strip, and that pilot initially refused to let Bucky on board. Rumlow, however, told him to 'shut the fuck up and fly the god damn jet' so he did.

The soldier allowed himself to sleep for three hours. Bucky hardly moved from him the entire time, if Rumlow was to be believed. When he woke up, the bear was waiting in his lap. They were given food four hours in, which he shared with the bear, and descending in five. His heart began to pound the closer they got to the vault as his brain debated whether or not the secretary would be pleased with their mission. They'd had to kill a civilian, something the secretary did not like. But he'd brought back the bear, which would please him. The bear was his mission and he'd succeeded.

The technicians stiffened when they saw him holding Bucky. Some people grinned and laughed. Others made confused faces. And some didn't acknowledge Bucky at all. He kept holding the wriggling bear tightly, even as it turned its head frantically to keep track of all the new people. Many of them the soldier didn't even know. They changed nearly every time he woke up.

Secretary Pierce approached them and he felt himself go rigid. He wasn't usually afraid of Secretary Pierce. Why would he be? The secretary's eyes were on the bear for a brief moment before flicking to Rumlow. "What is this?" He gestured to the bear when he spoke.

Rumlow stepped forward and spoke in a low voice to the secretary. But the soldier's hearing was sharp, so he heard, "Says it's his mission to bring you the bear. I tried to get him to leave the damn thing and he attacked me. I didn't want to push my luck."

Secretary Pierce kept his eyes on the soldier while Rumlow spoke, then nodded when their conversation was finished. "Soldier," he said, taking a step towards him. "Why did you bring this bear back?" He always asked things kindly. That didn't mean he was kind.

"It was my mission. To protect the bear and return it to. Someone." He almost said 'to you' but stopped himself. Because that wasn't right.

"Who were you to return it to?"

The bear whined and twisted in the soldier's grip. He shifted it in his arms. "To. To the girl. The little girl. Someone stole him from her. Made her sad."

"What little girl?"

He felt his eyebrows come closer together as he thought about it. He concentrated as hard as he could, remembered the girl telling him he was _the best._ Because he'd saved the bear. Bucky licked his chin. "I don't know," he said finally.

"Do you know any little girls? See any here?" Secretary Pierce asked slowly, spreading his arms to indicate the surrounding area.

The soldier felt his cheeks get hot and he couldn't look the secretary in the face. "No, sir."

A hand on his right arm made him flick his eyes up briefly. The secretary was not angry. That was good. "It's okay. You're confused, aren't you?"

He nodded, slow. He moved the fingers of his right hand through the bear's fur. Had he ever felt anything so soft before?

"You listened to your hallucinations, didn't you?"

Of course the secretary knew. The secretary knew everything about him. That's why he had to trust him. Had no choice. He felt his eyes widen as the thought struck him. He had no choices. Ever. And that wasn't right. That wasn't-He'd had choices. Before...Before what? His eyes fell to the bear's round head and the words came out of him slow and thin, "Bucky needed me to save him."

The hand on his arm tensed then moved, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing him to look the secretary in the eye. "Where did you hear that name?"

"In my head," he answered in a small voice. He'd crossed a line. He'd done a lot of things wrong. Where had his choices gone? Where did the name Bucky come from? He tried not to think of it, saw the anger flashing in the secretary's eyes, and he thought, no, he _remembered_ -"It's. It's my name. Bucky is my name." Not the bear's. The bear-"Becca had a teddy bear and a boy in her class stole it from her and I saved it. Bucky is _my_ name."

A sharp, stinging pain drew him back to the vault. He'd been hit in the face. The bear whined. "You don't have a name," the secretary insisted.

"I-Everyone has a name."

He was hit again and he clutched the bear tighter. This wasn't right, none of this was right and cold sweat sprang to the surface of his skin beneath his uniform. He was trapped here. He didn't want to be here. "Enough," the secretary said, more sternly this time.

"Don't tell me I don't have one," he said, just as stern. He felt his voice rising and no he wasn't supposed to do that, wasn't supposed to yell but why not? His throat tightened and a sudden punch of adrenaline made his limbs feel light but still he shouted, "I have one. My name is Bucky, my name is Bucky!" He backed away from the secretary, who yelled something out but he could hardly hear it over the pounding in his ears. Whatever the secretary said, it had everyone's attention. He moved to run, but the exit was blocked. The bear wailed again, head bobbing from shoulder to shoulder. He felt a hand hook under his right bicep then the left. Someone took the bear out of his arms and he said, "No, no," but no one cared or listened. No one ever listened to him, did he even exist? He struggled against the people holding him, shoving them away one at a time, and he heard the bear whine. He shoved the next person who tried to grab him. Someone slammed a stun baton at the base of his skull and he saw sparks behind his eyes as his teeth vibrated in his gums.

He was pushed into the chair and this was wrong. It was. He tensed his arms to tear free, but he was already trapped under the restraints. "No no no!" he said through gritted teeth. Someone grabbed his jaw, someone else trying to pry his mouth open. He shook his head and fought and someone hit him again across the cheek with the baton. Something was shoved in his mouth and he jerked away and tried to shove it back out with his tongue. But then something was coming down over his head, over his face. He took sharp breaths through his nose and tried to scream. This wasn't right. He wanted his choices back. He wanted his name back. He wanted-

He woke. Something made a whining noise. His cheek and the back of his head stung. There were no immediate threats. He waited for them to remove the bite guard before swallowing. The secretary came into view and his face was kind. He was always kind. "Welcome back, soldier." He held out a hand to the agent behind him. The agent stared at the soldier before handing his gun over to the secretary. "What is your name?" the secretary asked.

"A weapon has no name."

"Very good," the secretary said and his insides warmed. It was best to be good.

The restraints were released and he sat up. Secretary Pierce held out the gun, grip first, and the soldier took it. "I have something I need you to do." The secretary gestured to someone else in the room and the soldier let his eyes find the source of the whining noise. Someone was holding a small brown thing. It struggled, and the person holding it took a few steps towards the soldier before setting it down. Immediately, the brown thing stumbled towards the soldier.

Sometimes his mind did things, made him see and hear things that weren't real. These were called hallucinations. Secretary Pierce knew how to get rid of them temporarily, but there was no permanent solution, so he slept when he wasn't needed. The hallucinations always came back but the secretary was always kind and he always fixed them. Right now, his mind was telling him that this brown thing meant something. He could tell the hallucinations to be quiet, and it would work for a small amount of time. Eventually, he would need to return to Secretary Pierce, to have him tell the doctors to put him in the chair again and it would hurt. The hallucinations hurt more, though. They made his reality seem wrong and nothing hurt more than that.

"Shoot it," Secretary Pierce ordered.

The brown thing put its front legs against the soldier's bent knees and looked up at him. It wailed and moved its front legs against him. The soldier pulled back the slide and completed the order. The report echoed loud and sharp in the room but then everything was silent. He looked down at the brown thing, and it was on its side, no longer moving. He returned his eyes to the secretary, who held out his hand for the gun. He caught sight of the agent beside the secretary, who looked sick, staring at the dead animal on the ground. "Very good," Secretary Pierce said as the soldier surrendered the weapon. His insides did not warm this time. In fact, they felt rotten.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are super sensitive to animals being killed, especially cute babies, and especially by the hand of a brainwashed amnesiac assassin who the cute baby animal learned to trust, maybe this story will make you upset. People are also killed in the story. 
> 
> If you don't hate me for writing such a thing, come hang out on [tumblr](http://tchakaflocka.tumblr.com)!


End file.
